Unconditional
by somethingsdont
Summary: EC. "We're supposed to do stuff together now, though, right? I mean, all the stuff you said to me at the hospital about us…"


**Title**: Unconditional  
**Author**: Lucy (somethingsdont)  
**Pairing**: Eric/Calleigh  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Timeline**: 7.14, Smoke Gets In Your CSIs; quote from 7.16, Sink or Swim  
**Summary**: "We're supposed to do stuff together now, though, right? I mean, all the stuff you said to me at the hospital about us…"  
**Notes**: Whee! Everyone is on a Sink or Swim high. This isn't really from last night's ep, but the beginning/ending quote is so I thought it would tie in nicely. Please enjoy!

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_"We're supposed to do stuff together now, though, right? I mean, all the stuff you said to me at the hospital about us…"_

Eric Delko had never liked hospitals. There was always this sickeningly sterile smell that permeated clothes and persisted against skin. Hospitals were where dying people stayed. It was where _he'd_ stayed when he'd almost died. He knew it was also where people went to get better and that without them, he probably wouldn't even be standing there today, but he still hated being in them.

He'd been in Calleigh's hospital room since morning. Though she was conscious and breathing on her own, her doctors had wanted to observe her for an additional day. She'd initially been against the idea, and while he didn't blame her for wanting to get out of there, he'd convinced her to stay. He wasn't willing to take any risks with her health.

Word had gotten around that she'd regained consciousness, and people had been in and out of her room all day. After her last visitor – Ryan, who'd brought a bouquet of flowers so big it had to be placed on the ground – had left, Calleigh had drifted off to sleep, citing exhaustion. Eric hadn't left her bedside since. He had her hand tucked snugly in his, and he watched as her fingers fidgeted while she slept. It worried him a little, especially since she was still breathing a bit laboriously.

"You look deep in thought," she noted with a hint of amusement.

His eyes traced a line up to her face. She was wide awake, and he smiled. "I didn't notice you'd woken up."

She mirrored his smile. "What were you thinking about?"

"You."

Touched, color rose in her pale cheeks. "You don't have to stay all day, you know."

"I know, but…" He gesticulated in the air. "In case you need me," he explained.

She nodded, eyelids drifting. "I do."

"I was thinking," he began, to which she opened her eyes again, "when this is all over, what happens?"

"Things change."

"How?"

"We give this thing a shot," she replied, her words tentative but her expression confident.

He smiled faintly. "Yeah?"

A few minutes passed as both attempted to process what it all meant. Change was good. Change was inevitable. Change meant… a chance. But chance implied luck and he didn't like that. This change had nothing to do with luck. It had to do with how he felt about her and vice versa. It had to do with time and place, with compatibility and attraction. Not luck.

"Eric, do you remember the last time I was in the hospital?" she asked suddenly, catching him off guard. "Not as a patient."

He frowned and looked down, fiddled with her fingers for a moment. "Yeah, you were visiting Jake," he recalled rather flatly, unsure where she was headed but not liking it one bit. He had to fight the sting of jealousy that rose up in his chest. Why was she bringing that up?

She blanched. "I'd forgotten about that," she said quietly, genuinely, and a little apologetic. "Let's not talk about Jake. Before that."

He looked away. It was still all too fresh. "My shooting."

Her head shifted against the pillow in a nod. "Yeah." She gave his hand a quick squeeze. "We got through it," she reminded him. "I'm going to be okay, don't worry. And we became closer because of it, remember?"

He chuckled. "So our relationship grows stronger every time one of us ends up almost dying." His eyes sparkled playfully. He lowered his voice. "What do I have to do to get you to marry me?"

She laughed. "A lot of kisses and a pretty ring might do it."

He smiled but didn't say anything because it was too early to go there. They had a lot of things to figure out about themselves and each other; it'd take time. But it was something to aim for, a direction to head, and he wanted the journey to be amazing.

"I want to share everything I have with you," he blurted out, studying her reaction, searching her eyes for recognition and understanding.

It seemed to surprise her for a moment, but she quickly recovered. "On one condition."

He ran his fingers up along her forearm. "What's that?"

"I want everything," she told him with a soft smile. "Even the messy parts."

Her words warmed his heart, and he chuckled. "I thought that was my line."

She scoffed in mock offense. "What are you insinuating?"

"I forget." He smiled at her. "Can I kiss you?"

"You're evading," she told him with a playful grin, "and I'm sick."

"Not contagious," he countered.

"I might cough."

"I might not care." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "I'll be careful."

This was ridiculous, she thought to herself. What was it about him that was making her feel all of fourteen again and act all coy? Maybe there was something in the hospital air. Otherwise, she would've never used the "I'm sick" card. Never. But he was leaning in and she just needed to… her breath; how was her breath? What did she have for lunch? Fuck, why was she thinking about lunch when Eric was—

"Oh." She wasn't sure if she actually murmured it or if it was just in her head, like a little memo she kept for herself. For later. So it'd be easier to recall how his lips felt against hers, not that she particularly needed the reminder. He kept his promise; he was careful. She quickly learned that he was just as nervous as she felt, which eased her, which in turn, apparently eased him, because the kiss got better as it progressed. Instinctively, she reached for the back of his neck but ended up disturbing an IV line. She made a pained noise against his mouth and he pulled away in concern.

She smiled, a little sheepishly. "I told you."

"Maybe if you could keep your hands to yourself," he shot back, gently rolling the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand.

She chuckled, the end of her laugh turning into a slight cough. "Don't flatter yourself," she managed to say before being overtaken by a coughing fit.

His body neared hers. "Do I need to get someone?" he asked, concerned.

She clumsily waved him off, signaling to him to give her a second. She caught her breath a moment later. "Happens. I'm fine."

"You're fine?"

"Yes," she reiterated. "Eric, I'm fine."

"So if you're fine," he said cheekily, leaning closer, "why did you tell me you were sick a moment ago, when I asked if I could kiss you?"

Her cheeks flushed. "I was stalling."

He held back a grin. "Why?"

A thoughtful expression spread across her features. "I've known you for so long," she explained. "I was worried it'd be weird."

He appeared faintly concerned. "Was it?"

"No," she reassured him. "Was it for you?"

He laughed. "Yeah," he replied sarcastically. "Kissing you is so difficult for me." He watched as a smile formed across her face. He touched the tip of his nose to hers. "Honestly? It was pretty amazing. I've wanted to do it for so long."

"You can do it again if you want," she suggested with a sly grin.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers again, lightly brushing until she pulled him down – with her other hand, this time – and he felt her tongue teasing, probing. His hand touched her face, carefully brushing aside a few stray strands of hair as he kissed her, properly this time. A few moments later, he felt a hand against his chest and pulled back. She sucked in a few deep, labored breaths.

She laughed. "Sorry," she breathed, reaching for some water. "We probably shouldn't do that for too long." She pushed herself up, wincing slightly as she did, and took a sip of water.

He readjusted her pillow and helped her lie back down. "I can wait," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her temple.

"Could you—" She shifted closer to the opposite edge of the bed. "Could you lie down with me?"

He felt around on the side of the bed she'd vacated, lifted the sheets slightly to check for anything she could've possibly been connected to. "I'm not going to accidentally disturb something, am I?"

She shook her head and patted the sheets. He took a quick peek around and, noticing there were no nurses around to yell at him, he pulled himself onto the bed and lay on his side, facing her. He propped up his head with one hand, and using the other, he gripped her hand. It was clammy, still, and she was wearing his watch, but he didn't notice anything except the way her eyes closed and she leaned closer, until her forehead rested against his arm.

"Do you want your watch back?"

His fingers traced her wrist. "No, you can keep it."

"It was expensive," she argued, "and I can't wear it; it's too big for me."

"Keep it," he insisted. "You don't have to wear it; just keep it. It can be a reminder of how precious time is. Or something not as corny."

She laughed, coughed and pressed herself closer, until her cheek was against his chest. "Thank you," she whispered. She suppressed a yawn. "It can just be a reminder of everything you said today."

_"I meant all of it."_


End file.
